


mamoru

by hirazuki



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, M/M, in where this basically ccs and im c rying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hirazuki/pseuds/hirazuki
Summary: "I promise - I'll definitely protect you, Shizuka!"Ten-year-old Kimihiro Watanuki meets a boy his age, Shizuka Doumeki, and suddenly, their lives turn upside down. As they take up the mantle of ghost hunting, they have to deal with many other things; school, family curfews, and a whole lot of magic that they simply can't understand for themselves.But for as long as they're friends, everything will be alright.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> so i got this idea because i watched too much ccs and read too much of the clear card manga T_T
> 
> i've always wanted to write about the possibility of watanuki and doumeki possibly meeting each other when they were children, and it inspired me to write it in a much lighter style! i hope i can make a good breather from the epics that can be a little too much to handle, and here's hoping that i can write about these two having adventures together well! 
> 
> let's pray that doumeki won't be sick every other day with the coughing fits though.....uuu....

  According to the landlady, Okui-san, a Shinto priest will be coming.

  Ten-year-old Kimihiro Watanuki didn’t expect Okui-san to take his words seriously regarding Apartment Unit 3-10, or much less anything he said at all for the past five years. Usually, Okui-san would tell him to keep quiet, to not say another word in fear of scaring the neighbours, and he would always either press his case until she got sick of it, or give into her rejections, knowing full well that nothing would be done about the things that he sees every day. When Okui-san went up to Kimihiro’s apartment and brought him breakfast, telling him that the priest would be coming, it coloured him absolutely surprised.

  “Can he see them? Can he see those hands?” Kimihiro asked earlier in curiosity, in burning excitement. “He can see them, right?”

  Okui-san responded with a frown and a crinkle of her brows. “If he can exorcise whatever is in that unit, the faster I can rent it out and this entire business will be hushed up. Goodness, Kimihiro, you’re just bad for business, don’t you know that? Saying things like that…they end up being a piece of news with the tenants….”

  “But they’re hands that tear into—“

  “Whether they’re hands or feet,” the portly lady said pointedly, “is none of my business. I couldn’t get a hold of the priests in the Inari Shrine, so I had to ring up the elder of the Doumeki Temple. And _you,”_ she said, as she wagged her bony pointer finger at him, “are going to stay _right_ here until he leaves.”

  That very predicament led Kimihiro to stay by his windowside for at least two hours.

 _He’d be coming at ten o’clock,_ Kimihiro heard, and his small Doraemon alarm clock sits by him like a trusted companion, its second hand faithfully ticking by the lost bits of idle time. According to the newspaper, in which he usually pilfers from the management office each morning without fail, it’s Girls’ Day today, causing him to let out a soft sigh of frustrated resignation over being cooped up at home instead of doing something as little as flower-viewing. The temples would definitely be packed around this time of day, with families bringing their daughters to temples to pray for their good health, and those girls would be wearing brightly-coloured and ornately-patterned kimonos, ever pleasing to the eye as they are presented to the gods and the flowers. It’s obviously no wonder that the priests at the Inari Shrine are held up, but for that priest from the Doumeki Temple, it piqued Kimihiro’s curiosity regarding the entire matter in general.

  For one, wasn’t it a private temple strictly for the family?

  He’s heard of the Doumeki family from the neighbours – all good comments and remarks. A family of heritage, a family that passes down its divine duties from one son to the other. The latest generation has a kid named Shizuka, and Kimihiro thinks that she too would be joining the girls in the Inari Shrine for Girls’ Day, and as far as Kimihiro knows, the Doumeki Temple only has one priest.

  He waits. It’s near ridiculous, really – waiting for someone who may or may not be a fraud. He’s lived long enough to see those who claim to see spirits, to go into haunted places on purpose with night-vision camcorders just to make themselves famous. They claim that random white shadows that go _‘whoosh’_ in the night are the spirits themselves, and more often than not, awful video quality and tons of screaming always ended up being too jarring, too fake for the boy to even handle. It’s as if he’s being cheated each and every time, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Okui-san invited a fraud over.

  Then again, it’s someone from the _Doumeki_ family – the proud lineage of Shinto priests.

The second hand ticks, and the soft beeping of his alarm clock methodically does its part in informing the boy that yes, it is already ten, and that the priest should be here by now, or at least by a few minutes later. He really is thinking too much, placing too many expectations on someone he’s never even met before; why would someone be on-the-second, on-the-dot punctual? It’s not like the priest is sitting for an exam, it’s not like he’s being pressured to start a race, but his eyes are fixed at the entrance of the apartment complex, with the red paint of the gates cracking and peeling off, with the weakened cherry blossom trees trying their best to bloom at the season that expects them to yield the most.

  Kimihiro expects someone over-the-top to pass through those gates, to be honest.

  Yet, what surprises Kimihiro the most was that from where he sits, where he could see the main entrance in all its crumbling, aged glory, a yukata-clad man emerges from the outside world into the dreary apartment blocks that would be very well called his home. There is no sign that shows that the man is even a priest at all, but rather, he has the bearings of someone who was dressed up simply for the _hanamatsuri_ today. It is pale beige – the colour of his yukata, and the man smiles as if he’s seen so much of the world, of life, as if he knows it all and quietly keeps the knowledge within his heart of hearts. At once, it hits Kimihiro as to how serene the man seems; there is none of the religious bravado that he is accustomed to seeing in most of the self-proclaimed priests and exorcists he knows. He is like water; calm, deep, the very definition of the unknown.

  There is no mistaking it though; _he’s_ the priest Okui-san called.

  But what catches Kimihiro’s full attention is the little girl who is holding the priest’s hand, decked up in the most beautiful kimono he has ever seen. The bright red silk of the girl’s _furisode_ greatly contrasts with the priest’s much simpler, earthier undertones, and there is a generous amount of cherry blossom patterns on it, reflecting that indeed, she was probably meant to go to the _hanamatsuri_ today. Although her dark hair was short, it was decorated with a large _kanzashi_ that had its ends swaying in the wind, and in her free hand was a branch that was being held gently.

  And her _eyes_ – her eyes are so _bright._

 

 

  “I’ve heard that there are _disembodied_ _hands_ coming from that unit,” the woman named Okui – who Haruka Doumeki could only presume as the landlady – “and so far, I couldn’t find anyone who can get them out. It’s honestly scaring the neighbours, and I truly have no idea what to do….”

  “Did you try the fire department, or the police?” he humouredly asks. “They could very well get them out with proper procedures.”

  “Excuse me?” Okui blinks, startled.

  “Oh no, no,” Haruka chuckles. “I was thinking that you meant it in the literal sense. My train of thought was somewhere else for the moment, forgive me.”

  It is not uncommon for Haruka to make such morbid jokes; rather, it was something that his entire family had to bear with, whether it was his parents or his son and daughter-in-law, and now, that very same black humour just might spread to his grandson, Shizuka, all in good time. There are things that the boy should and shouldn’t learn at his age, and Haruka’s son, Shizuka’s father, almost thought him _mad_ for bringing the young one to an _exorcism call_ on his birthday. The daughter-in-law, Shino (may her soul be blessed, truly), merely takes everything in stride, as if she knows full well what Haruka has in mind for her son, but the same cannot be said for her histrionic, _harpy_ husband.

  But now, Haruka is far away from his angry son, and Shizuka is far away from his angry father, and that’s that. It can’t get any simpler than that, and besides, Shizuka wanted to come.

  “I’m so sorry to have called,” Okui apologizes; it is only then that Haruka realizes that she must have noticed Shizuka, who sticks out like a flower between the cracks. “This is your granddaughter, isn’t it? My, isn’t she beautiful! How old is she?”

  Shizuka barely even bats an eye at being labeled the wrong gender, but bows all the same. He doesn’t answer; the question was not directed at him, and yet, Haruka encourages him to answer with a gentle smile on his face.

  “Go on, Shizuka,” Haruka nudges.

  “I’m ten today,” Shizuka says in clear tones.

  “What a lucky child, goodness….!” Okui gasps. “Being born on such a beautiful day; this child must bring a lot of good luck and fortune to the family, yes? Of course, Doumeki-sensei, generations of service to the gods has granted you this lovely child…..”

  “Yes, indeed,” Haruka smiles, agreeing very much so. “Shizuka is rather frail though, so I thought of bringing her to the festival after the work’s done here. A little bit of exercise wouldn’t hurt a child, yes?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to bring her along to the unit for the exorcism?” the landlady blinks.

  “I won’t intrude,” Shizuka says quietly as he looks up at his grandfather. “Can I look around?”

  “Of course,” comes Haruka’s approval.

  It gives Haruka more room to hear his thoughts as the sounds of Shizuka’s footsteps fade away; as the woman chatters on and on about what she knows about the haunted apartment unit, it seems clearer that she has not seen it for herself. Rather, it was highly probable that she heard it from someone else, or from different sources, and yet, the description of how it was haunted was all too detailed, too graphic for him to dismiss as a mere speculation. Usually, people would make up different stories or stick to one with close to no variety, yet as he walks up flights of stairs to the third floor _, zori_ against concrete, something’s telling him that he ought not to be curious about the thing in the unit.

  Rather, he ought to be curious about the _person_ who knows what’s in there.

 

 

  The girl who came with the priest looks Kimihiro’s age, and he sees her again from his apartment window.

  He opens the window; it’s far too stuffy, and it was only recently that he was taught by a kind office lady at the first floor to ‘air out’ any room by letting some outside air flow in. He’s been expressly told to not step a single foot out of his apartment, highlighting how important the exorcism is to Okui-san, but if he were to simply stare at the girl out of curiosity for an entire hour, it would really feel like a complete waste. Yet, it’s still better than calling out to her or going out; it’d just make him look stupid. It’s not like he’s never seen a girl before – there are tons of them in school and everywhere else in the world.

  Thus, Kimihiro wonders why he simply can’t take his eyes off her.

  He’s never seen her in school before, and she’s not like most of them; there is a certain grace that she bears that almost takes his breath away. Her short, dark hair – the very same colour as his own – blows in the wind, and although the trees at the apartment are dying, withering away despite the forces of abundance that each spring naturally brings, their flowers spare their petals for her, gently breezing her way. It is then that he decides that yes, he ought to go right down there and say hello, but impatience seizes his little heart and his mouth opens in a jiffy.

  “H-Hello!” Kimihiro exclaims.

  It is then that he sees her bright golden eyes as she turns her head to look at him in surprise. He takes a deep breath; he’s come too far to stop.

 

_“Hello! My name’s Kimihiro!”_


	2. peach blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spring, and beginnings / the second time.

 

 

_I wish upon a star,_  
but all I really wanna know  
is how they shine so brightly!  
  
CLEAR

 

* * *

 

 

  The morning of Shizuka Doumeki’s tenth birthday did not start out well, mainly because of his father.

  _‘An_ exorcism, _father, are you serious?!’_ his father argued to his grandfather, who, as always, did not really give two hoots about whatever his father wanted to complain about. It was much easier to speak to his mother, who was by all means patient with nearly everything that is going around her, and although she has been keeping her silence amidst the tirades that his father went on and on with, Shizuka could tell that somehow, someplace deep inside her, her patience must be wearing thin. There’s only so much that someone can take, and knowing that, Shizuka raised his arms for her so that she could tie his _obi_ properly, as if to give her something else to concentrate on instead of having to listen to his father and grandfather bicker back and forth.

_‘I’m perfectly serious,’_ his grandfather said, as he got all-too-ready to wear his _zori_ and to make a beeline for the door. _‘And if you’re scared out of your wits, Honoka, Shizuka’s not participating.’_

_‘Still, it’s inauspicious!’_ his father exclaimed _. ‘Shizuka’s not well most of the time, and you think that by putting a kimono on him for god knows how many years, it will toughen him up and make all of his colds and fevers magically go away?! And you’re taking him to an exorcism on his_ birthday?! _On such an auspicious day, do you seriously want to make things worse?!’_

_‘You had the good fortune,’_ his grandfather mildly said, as he gestured for his mother to quickly relinquish him for the good of the entire family, just so that the morning wouldn’t be as fractured as it already was, _‘of being born healthy and strong, Honoka. And see? You haven’t lost your fervor! Aren’t you grateful to the gods for that? Goodness, I still get shivers at the thought of you yelling again; healthy, healthy indeed! Ah, I give up….!’_

  The next thing that happened was Shizuka finding himself right at his grandfather’s side as he listened to his boisterous laughter over the fact that they had been kicked out of the house at the wee hours of the morning.

  In a way, Shizuka could understand both the concerns that came from his father and grandfather; ever since he could remember, he has been coddled by both parties in very different manners. His father sheltered him from the sun and the rain, but his grandfather forged him by tossing him out to the mercy of the elements. The former treated him preciously, the latter wished for him to breathe even if it would kill him. It was by all means a very contradicting affair – the long-standing fight between his father and his grandfather over him would never cease, and when his grandfather spoke of today’s exorcism call a week ago, Shizuka only said four words that made his father almost paralyzed with worry.

_‘I want to go.’_

  So his grandfather obliged him.

  The apartment complex that they were called to was, frankly speaking, _horrid;_ it was as if the developer aimed to go lax on the foundation and put off construction when there was a shortage of funds. According to most people, it halted development for at least six years before it resumed again, but even with all the paintwork and the newly-placed fixtures, cracks were visible on the concrete in less than six months. To those who bought the units, they lamented over their sorry state and bemoaned the fact that they couldn’t sue the developer mainly due to their own stupidity over buying the units in the first place, and when they arrived, Shizuka could barely believe his eyes over how nothing of what he heard was fabricated.

  It truly _was_ a mess of a place.

  What were meant to be cherry, or peach blossom trees instead gave off foreboding similarities to petrified structures; there were more branches than foliage despite the forces of spring compelling them to have an abundance of flowers bloom. The road was full of holes and green patches of mold were stuck on the concrete pillars that made the entrance into the complex, and as it was a holiday, there was no security present to care for the safety and wellbeing of the residents. The bulletin board looked as if it had survived countless days – years even, of rain and shine, to the point where articles dated from many years ago were blurred out and dried up against the yellowish foam of the board.  If one were to look carefully, the metal on the thumbtacks were completely rusted over, and although Shizuka was very much concerned over the horrible state of living in such an advanced city like Tokyo, his grandfather merely walked right in as he held his small hand in his, firm and sure.

  That was when a sharp pain seized Shizuka’s chest, prompting him to start coughing vehemently as he clutched onto his grandfather’s arm.

_‘Shizuka!’_

  There was his grandfather’s clear, worried voice as he called his name, his grandfather’s hands firmly placed on his small shoulders to the point where he could feel the warmth from his palms through the silk of his _furisode._ There was a choking feeling in his throat, a suffocating sensation in his lungs, and when he looked up at the apartment complex, the entirety of his small frame shivered violently at the thought of entering. There could be absolutely no way that he could enter such a place, so why do people even live here….?

  And then, Shizuka found himself trying his hardest to make his way to the nearest dead tree.

  His grandfather looked as puzzled and as confused as Shizuka was as he dragged his small body to make even the slightest bit of contact with the tree; it’d do him absolutely no good to rely on a tree for guidance and protection, but to Shizuka’s surprise, his grandfather’s momentary confusion went as soon as it came. He reaches out his arms and snaps a branch off the tree, and when Shizuka’s hands touched the bark, small pink petals of a slowly blooming blossom landed on the boy. He took a deep breath, then another.

_‘Hold onto this, Shizuka,’_ his grandfather smiled as he bequeathed him with the branch. _‘Keep it well, alright? Don’t stray off too far when you want to play.’_

   

* * *

 

  

  Thus, with such a bad start, the last thing Shizuka would have expected to see today was the sight of a bespectacled boy his age sticking his head out of the window and introducing himself to him from the second floor of an apartment complex.

  His eyes go wide; there is a violent blush on _Kimihiro’s_ cheeks, so much so that it almost makes his entire face look a madder red. He yelled an introduction at him earlier; Shizuka would be lying if he said that he wasn’t the very least surprised, but the only thing he could see was Kimihiro’s eyes, blue and reflected with earnestness, anticipation and _desperation._ The boy in the second floor breathes heavily, possibly out of nervousness, but what he doesn’t know is that Shizuka himself feels just as confused as to how to respond to such an introduction.

  Shizuka’s honestly _never_ come across such a situation before in his life.

  But there is something very telling about someone whom he’s never met before mustering up the courage to talk – _yell_ at him from a faraway place just to introduce himself, and there’s absolutely no one else who would have the nerve to do such a thing in an otherwise ordinary setting. The boy, Kimihiro, knows very well that he would embarrass himself when doing such, but he went on and did it anyways.

  It’s something that Shizuka knows that he has to do himself, so he steps forward, tilts his head up to give Kimihiro a good look, and smiles.

  _“Hello!”_ Shizuka calls out with equal fervor – it is a first for Shizuka, who usually kept to his namesake by keeping absolutely mum no matter what the situation, but there is a soaring feeling within him that propels him to respond, to make it known that he too is glad to meet the other. “Can you hear me? Hello!”

  The boy named Kimihiro stops holding onto the windows, beams back, and starts waving.

  “Yeah, I can hear you!”  Kimihiro laughs gaily. “Hello!”

  “Hello!” Shizuka shouts again, clutching onto his weak heart – the neighbours would honestly have a field day if they keep it up. “It’s nice to meet you, Kimihiro! I’m Shizuka!”

_“Shizuka!”_ Kimihiro parrots his name, as if to confirm it. “What are you doing down there?”

  “What are you doing _up_ there?” Shizuka hollers, putting his hand near his mouth as if to amplify his voice. “Can you come down?”

  “I’m on it!” the other boy nods, and the window slams shut.

 

* * *

 

 

  Before, even the thought of simply walking out of his unit scared Kimihiro to his core.

  He puts on his socks the wrong way round – the cloth meant for the heels stick out like deflated mushrooms on his feet, but he minds it not. As soon as he slides his feet into his loafers, he grabs his keys, makes a dash for his door and runs out before locking it hurriedly, all because of his excitement to meet that peach blossom princess.

  Her name is _Shizuka._

  He never thought that his crazy idea would _actually_ work.

  But then again, it’s not good to just go down there without anything in hand, yes? Kimihiro stops right in his tracks, wondering if he should actually go down and bring Shizuka something. Maybe some of the butter cookies that he made three days ago, or that _mochi_ that he tried making yesterday, but then again, it’s morning, isn’t it? Wouldn’t breakfast be better, or did Shizuka eat already?

  Cooking rice takes a whole half-hour though, and by then, Shizuka would be gone.

  Never mind breakfast; if he can’t make it for Shizuka this time, then surely he can make it for her another time. He runs down the stairs, bravely skipping steps to get downstairs faster, and with each step he takes, the most exhilarating feeling fills him, overwhelms him even. Past the management office, past the rows of mailboxes affixed to the walls, he opens the doors of the entrance and sees the one he’s waiting for, standing there with the branch in her hands.

  “Good morning!” Kimihiro pants between laughs; the run surely took a bit of a toll on him. “I….I saw you from upstairs, Shizuka! I….I thought I’d just say hello, so….!”

  “You came all the way down just to say hello to me?” Shizuka blinks, and then she looks up at where Kimihiro’s unit is. “Or….did you come all the way down just because I told you to…?”

  “I-I wanted to meet you!” Kimihiro nods. “I saw you with Doumeki-sensei – are you related to him?”

  “Mm,” Shizuka nods, teetering from her heels to her toes as she sways about, the sleeves of her _furisode_ swinging gently as she does it. Kimihiro finds that he likes the way the patterns seem to come alive when they swing back and forth. “He’s my grandfather, and we’re here because he’s going to exorcise a spirit from a unit—”

  “Don’t go anywhere near there,” the bespectacled boy suddenly cuts in, a certain kind of fear seizing him all of a sudden. “A lot of people died in there, so don’t go.”

  Shizuka’s stare almost makes him balk; it also raises the question as to whether she believes him or not.

  “How many?” comes her gentle voice.

  “Huh?”

  “How many people died in there?” Shizuka asks.

  The question completely floors Kimihiro. “Eight….”

  Worry paints Shizuka’s features, and suddenly, Kimihiro feels as if it probably would have been better that he never mentioned the issue in the first place. He doesn’t know if he’s scared her or made her displeased over the fact that he said something completely ridiculous; how was he to know that there were eight vengeful souls trapped within that unit, and that their disembodied hands were itching to claim their latest victim? She looks at the branch in her hands, as if there is nothing else to look at asides from it, and he gears himself up to apologize for being stupid when she cuts him off abruptly with a cough.

  “S-Shizuka!”

  A cough. Another. She takes a handkerchief – a surprisingly plain blue one, and she pockets it.

  “Grandfather would probably know that there are eight people who died in there too,” Shizuka says, and it raises even more questions in Kimihiro’s mind – does it run in the family, being able to believe in ghosts as well as to see them? “I know that he can do it, but I’m still worried because of what happened when I came here.”

  “What happened?” Kimihiro asks, feeling a sense of absolute dread.

  “I couldn’t breathe,” Shizuka confesses, “but after Grandfather gave me this branch, I’m a bit better.”

  “Huh…” the bespectacled boy blinks, looking at it. It’s a branch – a rather thin one, yet he recognizes it being from a peach tree. He reaches out to touch it, to poke it, and as his fingers brush against Shizuka’s, the two children stare at it in a strange bit of wonder. If it had eyes, it would probably stare back; if it had a mouth, it would probably tell them to stop. “Do you think that if I get a branch like this too, I won’t be able to see—“

  And then it hits Kimihiro as to the fact that he was not hounded by any masses of spirits on his way to meet Shizuka.

  “….See what?” Shizuka asks curiously, still holding the branch and Kimihiro’s hands in hers.

  Kimihiro shifts uncomfortably, wondering whether to tell her.

  “You’ll….” Kimihiro hesitantly begins, “……you’ll think I’m weird.”

  “No.”

  “You’ll think I’m lying.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Shizuka says, her voice tinged with impatience.

  “You….” Kimihiro takes a breath, finally voicing his greatest fear, “won’t want to be friends with me.”

  “You don’t know that yet.”

  “But _everyone_ else runs away!” Kimihiro exclaims, his heart sinking with every shout. “I can see _ghosts,_ so people think it’s creepy! And now that I’ve said it, you won’t want to be friends with me because I’m _weird!”_

  “I think _I_ have more right to what you said than _you_ do,” Shizuka insists heatedly, her face hot with irritation. “Grandfather can see ghosts too, so it’s not weird, but you have more reason to run because you think that I’m a girl, when I’m actually a _boy.”_

  There is a most suitable pause; the two children look at each other, but arguably, the most surprised of them all is Kimihiro himself, who stares at Shizuka as if she – **_he_** – was speaking gobbledygook. There’s clearly no mistaking that Shizuka’s a girl; Shizuka has a girl’s name, Shizuka’s wearing a _furisode,_ Shizuka’s going to the Inari Shrine for _Girls’_ Day, of all days, and before he knew it, his mouth opens wide in absolute shock.

  It amazes Kimihiro as to how _natural_ Shizuka is, despite everything. As if Shizuka is a breath of fresh air, a gust of wind that blows everything unwanted away to clear a straight path.

  “…..You can _let go_ of my hands now,” comes Shizuka’s sharp, cold tones, but as he tries to pull away, Kimihiro forcefully keeps his hold on both Shizuka’s hands and the branch.

  “I-I don’t think I will,” Kimihiro blurts out. “I don’t think I want to let go.”

  “Why?” Shizuka asks, blinking.

  “Because….” Kimihiro says falteringly, “because I want to go with you to the festival!”

 

* * *

 

 

  “My, this seems to be quite a predicament.”

  It is a massive understatement for Haruka to say. Pungent, suffocating and toxic – even the most spiritually immune of people could not help but feel that there is something absolutely wrong with the surroundings of the unit. It is not pretty, as most first-impression layouts are for the grounds of an exorcism, for the demons do not choose their exorcist. It is a very odd relationship, akin to a doctor and their very wayward patient, and Haruka fights the urge to take his _kiseru_ right then and there to drag a long, nice smoke just to get through the morning. It wasn’t the right time, not with Okui hovering behind him as if she was a camera from the press.

_Dear me, how could it be this bad?_ he thinks.

  It is fortunate that he decided to leave Shizuka out of the mess – from the start, Shizuka exhibited symptoms of his already frail and crumbling health, indicating that there are far more dubious spirits than they were initially called in for. The miracle of Shizuka’s birthday – the third of March, as well as his affinity for the blossom trees are the keys to _strengthening_ him, so much so that if the branch from the peach blossom tree were to bloom flowers in his possession, then it would confirm Haruka’s theories about his grandson’s constitution. It would be ideal to have Shizuka participate in the exorcism call, but the boy is far too weak – truth be told, Haruka has never seen such a weak soul in the family for years.

  “I’ll begin now, please,” Haruka inclines his head into a small nod, and Okui obliges by making herself out of sight. He gets his work done so much easier without having people around, and he inhales in the stench that the dark miasma of hands reek of, as if he has encountered such spirits a hundred times before. He lets himself feel their wrath, their pain – wrongfully murdered and out for blood, innocent or guilty, for blood is blood and there is no distinction. To everyone, it is all but red, and Haruka sighs; he’s honestly getting on in years. He’s not getting any younger, and the work is not getting any easier by all means.

  There is a certain charm and a certain danger to being pure of heart and spirit; it is something that Haruka knows that runs in the family. Far too many a time, he recalls – as he walks to the middle of the living room and inhales the dust, the reeking, rotting stench – having allowed himself to be drunk in the essences of spirits, be they benevolent or malevolent. He empathizes, yet, he carries out his duties; most would probably say that he’s pushing his luck at every turn possible, and they’d be absolutely right.

  There are hands everywhere – it is as Okui said, but the words did not originally come from her own mouth. He feels one on his shoulder, the other on his thigh, and he smiles to himself – _patience, patience._ There is no patience within vengeful spirits; a common disadvantage for them should they come across someone thoroughly experienced. A finger caresses his cheek, waiting just for the right moment to round itself up on his eye to see if it can gouge it out, to see if the blood they seek would be any different from the rest.

  The spirits are attracted to the pure of heart – including himself, Honoka and Shizuka.

  There is a small flame, and there is an exhalation of smoke, and at once, they are gone.

 

* * *

 

 

  “What’s your last name?” Shizuka asks, sitting down beside his new friend, Kimihiro by the already flowering peach blossom tree. “Mine is the same as my grandfather’s – Doumeki.”

  “Watanuki,” Kimihiro sighs, obviously not pleased with it. “They make April Fools’ jokes out of it, and it doesn’t help that I’m born on that day either….”

  “Today’s my birthday, so I think that’s a bit worse,” the _furisode_ -clad boy laments with him. “I’m a boy, but my birthday’s on Girls’ Day. I have to wear girls’ clothes until I’m ten, and I’m ten today, so that means I have to complete the year in order for me to wear normal clothes by my eleventh.”

  “Why do you have to wear girls’ clothes if you’re a boy?” The frequently asked question presents itself, and Shizuka fights back the urge to sneeze. His nose tingles unpleasantly, and amidst the falling blossom petals, he takes a deep breath, as if it wasn’t enough to fill his lungs.

  “I get sick a lot,” Shizuka replies, fidgeting to adjust his sitting position. “Every week, I’ll get something – last week, I got a cold. The week before, I had a high fever. A few days ago, I was shivering for no reason. That’s why I have to wear girls’ clothes – Grandfather said that if I cultivate myself and build my inner strength behind the tradition, then I’ll be able to stop getting sick all the time.”

  “How about going to the hospital a lot? Does that happen for you?” Kimihiro asks worriedly. It piques Shizuka’s interest as to how Kimihiro can worry about almost anything, even if he’s just known someone for a precious few minutes.

  “It does,” Shizuka nods, his shoulder-length hair swaying with the movements of his head, “but I don’t think it’s as bad as seeing spirits every day. Do you really see spirits every day, just like my grandfather?”

  The frame of Kimihiro’s hair drapes nicely near his ears, and he adjusts his glasses before he spins his tale for Shizuka. “Yeah. It happens a lot – whenever I walk out of my apartment, whenever I go to school, in school, whenever I come back, whenever I do the groceries…..They’re everywhere, and I can’t shake them off even with salt sometimes, so….”

  “Do you see them now?” Shizuka asks again. Curiosity eats away at him, yet at once, he checks himself – he’s being rude. “Sorry, it’s just that I don’t know how it’s like….I can’t see them.”

  “Huh?” Kimihiro blinks. “You can’t? Your grandfather can, though!”

  “I don’t think I’m strong enough,” Shizuka chuckles, finding it so strangely easy to admit his weakness to someone whom he’d just met. “I was born really weak.”

  “Well, they’re around, but for some reason, they’re not here today,” the bespectacled boy hums. “I like it this way though – I hope it’s like this every day! No stupid black fogs coming to hunt me down, no ten-thousand eyes watching me when I shop for food—“

  That’s where Kimihiro stops himself.

  Shizuka watches the gradual change of expressions on Kimihiro’s face at a possible revelation; there is an expression of shock, followed by confusion, and ultimately concludes with an elated bit of happiness. It’s like he’s doing his own version of mental math, and Shizuka leans forward to watch Kimihiro a little longer, wondering what on earth he could possibly be thinking after stopping such a spiel.

  “I stopped seeing them…..” Kimihiro mouths softly, “…..when I first saw you, Shizuka!”

  “No way.” Shizuka quickly says, shutting him down. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “In a way, it does!” comes a jolly voice, and Shizuka immediately recognizes it as his grandfather’s. He walks towards them with a smile on his face – the deed is done, and they can go. Kimihiro stands up in attention and looks at the aforementioned haunted unit that has been eating away at Okui-san’s worries for the longest of months, and with a satisfied feeling that he has never felt for a long time now, he bows to Shizuka’s grandfather with much fervor and gratitude.

  “I can feel it! It’s gone now! Thank you, Doumeki-sensei!” Kimihiro laughs.

  “And you’re very welcome,” Shizuka’s grandfather chuckles, patting Kimihiro on the head. “Who’s this, Shizuka? Have you made a new friend?”

  “Mm,” Shizuka nods, holding Kimihiro’s hand in one and the branch in another. “His name is Watanuki Kimihiro, and he’s a month younger than me! Can we take him together with us to the festival at Inari?”

  The look on Shizuka’s grandfather’s face was utterly priceless; probably, Shizuka has never behaved so enthusiastically before, and Kimihiro can only assume that his new friend must’ve been more on the quiet side most of the time. The head priest looks at the two boys – them holding hands as if they’ve known each other for years, Shizuka vouching for Kimihiro as if he really wants him to come along, and Kimihiro’s eyes twinkling with expectation over being invited to come along.

  “…..Aaah, I give up, I give up!” Shizuka’s grandfather surrenders, raising his arms up. “Let’s all go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter, finally up!
> 
> i've been wanting to make a tumblr specifically for this fic, mainly to gather posts that can give off more of the vibe that it's supposed to + give me a bit of an inspiration boost! i admit that i kind of rushed with this chapter; i gave myself a silly deadline of 2 days due to irl stuff, but right after this, i hope i can swing right into the plot - _ghostbusting!_
> 
> looking high and low for a faceclaim for young doumeki was arduous, but i finally settled on a younger shiki ryougi, as seen [here!](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/typemoon/images/8/82/Young_Shiki_sketch.png/revision/latest?cb=20130927195404) thank you so much for your feedback, and i hope to churn out the second chapter very soon!


	3. spring children ( part 1 )

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prince of march / prince of april.

 

 

 

    In all honesty, Haruka's never seen his grandson smile so much before.

    With the boy, Kimihiro, Shizuka shows an myriad of expressions that not even the family has ever seen; there are shades of happiness, surprise, the need to impress. When Kimihiro talks, Shizuka listens - and vice versa. They seem as if they are in a world of their own, a world where not even Haruka can try to fathom in all its childlike innocence, and he behaves as if he's an unseen chaperone, a quiet guardian for the two to celebrate the festivities in the shrine together. Kimihiro leads Shizuka by the hand through the _torii,_ and while he wishes to offer the children in blessing himself with all the authority of a priest, he decides that it's best that they bask in the glory of the gods that protect them throughout their lives.

    If fate is something that can't be avoided, at the very least, it can be fought; it was a philosophy that Haruka knew of, but never tried to do. His son, Honoka, was an active practitioner of that principle, in which he forcibly branched out from the more traditionalist norms of the family in order to pursue a much more normal life, and there were many a time when Haruka himself wondered about his son's unbelievable grit. It definitely didn't come from his side of the family - probably his mother's, because there's got to be a certain bit of finesse in running a household and both the two men in her house. Honoka was gifted, very much so, but he treated his gift as a nuisance more than a privilege to have, thus as he dearly wished for his gifts to stray away from him, he defied them in his own way by sheer ignorance.

    At times, Haruka wondered if it was Honoka's wish for Shizuka to not inherit any supernatural abilities, so as to live a peaceful life. Whether or not it's a gift of normalcy from father to son, only Honoka would know. There was also the possibility that Shizuka was a late bloomer, that his skills lay dormant until he reaches of age.

    Haruka has visited Tomoeda once upon a time, but he too isn't sure whether it's Tomoeda of the Japan that he lives in, or Tomoeda of a Japan that is unreachable to him at the moment. A young lady with the spirit of encouragement and a young man who vowed his eternal love and protection to her were the ones whom he met at the time, and they sought his guidance to meet a certain woman who could help with their affairs. There is no need to ascertain more that Kimihiro reminds him of that woman with the most startling emerald eyes and a smile that could light up any room, but the same could be said of Shizuka, who seems to embody more of that woman's affinity.

  _I want to protect those I love,_ she told him.

    Isn't that everyone, now?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of exposition, but i'm really sorry for the short chapter! i'll be sure to churn out a longer chapter later!
> 
> as it implies, it explains that haruka did meet sakura and syaoran before, but there are more parts to the spring children chapters as it goes! thank you so much for the comments; i really want to spoil this before this even finishes....!


End file.
